28 Combaticons
by kepulver
Summary: [G1] Collection of shorter entries done for the 28 Combaticons meme on my Livejournal under dunmurderin
1. Jealousy

**Jealousy**

Megatron and Starscream watched as Bruticus went through his paces. It was the gestalt's first official test since the Combaticons' 'reconditioning' and both were interested to see how well he performed.

The tests were simple ones: tests of strength, agility, firepower and obedience to orders. Near where Megatron and Starscream stood on the cliff face watching, Scrapper and Hook were monitoring Bruticus's performance on a series of scanners and monitors. The rest of the Constructicons, there as much for the amusement factor as to scope out the competition, stood nearby adding their own murmured comments.

"Enough," Megatron said. "I've seen enough! Bruticus, disengage!"

"Bruticus obeys," the gestalt rumbled, separating into his components. The Combaticons flew to the cliff top, landing in a V-formation with Onslaught at the point.

"How was our performance?" Onslaught asked, standing straight and tall but keeping his optics cast slightly downward so as not to meet Megatron's gaze. 

Megatron held up a hand, looking back toward the Constructicons. "Scrapper! What are your findings?"

"Preliminary findings show that Bruticus is performing at or above acceptable levels for a gestalt this newly created," Scrapper rasped. "He clearly requires direction in the field, but with suitable preparation, he will follow orders flawlessly."

Megatron laughed, head thrown back. "I like this creation of yours, Starscream," he said, favoring the Air Commander with a superior smile. "I wish I had an army of Bruticuses!"

"'I wish I had an army of Bruticuses'" Swindle mimicked Megatron over the Combaticons' internal radios. "What are we? Scrap metal?"

Vortex snickered back. "Look at Starscream. Could he get any further up Megatron's aft?"

"Maybe if he was a Conehead," Swindle said. "Be more aerodynamic that way. Aft-polishing' flyboy rust magnet!"

"Settle down," Onslaught said. "Starscream isn't important; it's what Megatron thinks that matters."

"Uh-huh, and it looks like Meggy likes Bruticus bestest of all," Swindle grumbled. "I'm just sayin', Onslaught, we were a team long before Bruticus came around. A good team -- we wouldn't have been able to cause half the trouble we did if we weren't good at what we do. So where the slag does Megatron get off with this "I wish I had an army of Bruticuses" kludge?"

"And shouldn't that be 'Brutici'?" Vortex asked, his head tilting to one side.

"Loathe as I am to admit it, for once Stumpy does have a point," Blast Off said, his voice a soft, cultured drawl -- one that the others were sure he spent half his time in space practicing. "It seems we're to be relegated to the background in favor of our newest 'teammate'."

"Slag that! Bruticus ain't nothin' without us! We'll show those bit-rotted clusterfrags!" Brawl barked and only long familiarity kept the other Combaticons from outwardly wincing in pain at the sudden loudness. "We're Combaticons, we don' take a backseat to nobody!"

"Damn straight," said someone so softly the others weren't sure who had spoken. Perhaps they all had. They were silent for a moment, before Onslaught broke the silence.

"Bruticus is our ticket back into the Empire," he said. "Without him, we'd likely be back in the detention center. Or permanently disabled this time. We owe our continued existence to Bruticus."

They were silent again, watching quietly as Megatron and Starscream congratulated one another, seemingly without noticing their presence.

"But we will prove to those self-satisfied glitches that we are more than the sum of our parts," Onslaught said.


	2. Greedy

Brawl's hand hit the table with a smack that echoed around the commissary almost as loud as Swindle's yelp of pain as Brawl grabbed his wrist and squeezed. A few heads turned, watching briefly as Swindle struggled futilely to free his hand from Brawl's grip.

"I told you to keep your paws off my tray!" Brawl bellowed.

"I wasn't doin' anything!" Swindle yelled, still trying to jerk his arm loose. "I was just stretching out my arm!"

"Slag!" Brawl said, tightening his grip. "You were goin' for my other cube. If you need t'refuel, go up to th' droid an' get it yourself!"

Swindle sighed, looking imploringly at Brawl. "C'mon Brawl! You got plenty there! Just let me have one measly cube for now an' I'll pay you back when I get mine later, huh?"

For a moment, Brawl considered just crushing Swindle's hand. It wouldn't shut Swindle up but it would at least make listening to him more entertaining. "Swindle, you're lyin', you know how I know you're lyin'?"

Swindle yelped even louder than he had when he'd been grabbed. "I'm not lying!" he said. "Brawl, c'mon! The vendor won't give me anything until tomorrow 'cause there's something wrong with my code an' you know I'm good for it! C'mon! We share quarters, how the slag am I gonna be able to avoid you?"

Brawl sighed; sometimes it was hard to believe that _he_ was supposed to be the dumb one. "Swindle, your lips are moving, that's how I know you're lyin'," he said, releasing Swindle's wrist. "I'm gonna give you until I count to three to get outta my sight before I bounce you off every wall in this place."

"But Brawl!" Swindle protested.

"Three."


	3. Daring

**Author's Note:** This is not the story I was originally going to post here, but that one is stalled at the moment and this idea hit me last night at work after me and the AmyTex went swimming at the local wave pool. Takes place in my divergant universe in the grey area between end of Season 2/Transformers: The Movie. Written for "Daring Combaticons"

Ordinarily, Seaspray would have enjoyed thumping along over the waves -- particularly along this stretch of the Oregon coast. Whale migration season was in full swing; pods were moving north with their newly-born calves and while the view from the roadside was good, the view from the ocean itself was even better.

Unfortunately, the view was being spoiled by Onslaught hovering over the surface of the water.

Seaspray cut his engines, letting himself bob on the waves. He was well within Onslaught's shooting range, but if worse came to worst, he could easily transform and dive. In Seaspray's experience, tractor-trailers -- particularly missile haulers like Onslaught -- weren't the best swimmers.

"Greetings, Autobot," Onslaught said, with a polite head-nod before he looked up at the sky. "Beautiful weather, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Seaspray said, momentarily taken aback. "You mind telling me why you're out here?"

Onslaught looked back at him. "Hmm? Oh, certainly," he said. "My teammates and I are working on gaining an understanding of the terrain that makes up the majority of this planet. While our alternate modes are not intended for aquatic maneuvers as yours is, I don't see any reason for us to not have a familiarity with them." Onslaught's optics flickered. "I believe the humans call it 'cross-training'."

Seaspray whirled his props. "And the reason you've chosen to be this close to Autobot Headquarters is…"

"Pure perversity on our parts, really. My brothers find these sessions a bit boring so we thought we'd make it interesting and see how close we could get to the edges of Autobot territory before we attracted your collective attention. We had a bet going as to how fast one of you would be out here to see what we're doing," Onslaught said, again surveying the skies. "I have to admit, we were expecting the Aerialbots, not you." Onslaught looked at Seaspray again. "No offense."

"None taken," Seaspray grumbled. He felt no need to mention that the Aerialbots -- or at least Slingshot -- had expressed a similar opinion about sending a 'stupid minibot' after the Combaticons. "Uhm. So, you realize I need to ask you to leave, right?"

"Why?" said Onslaught, sounding surprised. "We're not harming anyone. We're not even within the territorial waters of the United States -- I made certain of that. All we're doing is simply enjoying a pleasant spring day out on the waters. Ah, here they come now. Watch this for me? I would value your input."

Seaspray's visual sensors picked up four fast-moving blips coming out of the sun. Blast Off and Vortex appeared to be leading the pack in their vehicle modes while Brawl and Swindle brought up the rear as robots. The four banked sharply upwards then dived. From where he bobbed on the surface, Seaspray could hear Vortex let out an ecstatic shriek as he transformed from helicopter to robot mode just in time to execute a mid-air summersault before he hit the water. Blast Off didn't bother to transform, diving into the water only to skim briefly under the surface before coming up a few hundred yards later. Swindle's shriek was more panicked than ecstatic as he curled himself into a tight little ball and cannonballed into the ocean, while Brawl simply transformed to his alt mode and tank-flopped, hitting the surface of the water with a THWAP that made Seaspray's hoverpad ache in sympathy.

"Well, you're the expert," Onslaught said. "How did they do?"

"I think Greg Louganis has nothing to be worried about," Seaspray said.


	4. Dancing

**Don't Dance**

For Onslaught, strategy was the closest he got to dancing. It wasn't that he couldn't dance -- he _had_ attended the required courses at the Academy, after all. The problem was that most traditional Decepticon dances were intended to be performed by fliers in general and Seekers in particular. A groundpounder's boot jets were simply no substitute for wings.

Besides, how could twittering about to music compare to the rhythmic grace of the battlefield?

Blast Off knew the traditional Decepticon dances as well. He'd attended the same classes as Onslaught had. Unlike his brother, he'd been told that he was quite graceful. Though the implication "for a shuttle" had always been there, under the surface of every complement.

But could a Seeker spin between planets? Could a Seeker hold himself in orbit, not flying but falling in a painfully slow, carefully controlled fall? Let those poor, atmosphere-bound fools believe themselves superior. Up here, it was he who was the dance master.

Brawl didn't dance. Dancing was for officers and flyboys, not mechs like him who actually worked for a living. Besides, there was something downright suspicious about the whole process of flitting around in an arena. The whole thing reminded Brawl too much of air strikes for comfort.

No, Brawl didn't dance. Instead, he annihilated his enemies -- be they Autobots, fellow Decepticons or training drones -- with a graceful ruthlessness.

For Swindle and Vortex, it was deal making and interrogation respectively. Or at least, that was their story and they were sticking to it. Both were too tied into the Combaticons' rebellious groundpounder image to be seen doing something as conventional as any of the traditional Decepticon dances.

Dancing to MC Hammer's "U Can't Touch This," was a different story. Particularly at 36,000 feet in full view of the passengers and crew of Oceanic Airlines flight #8869 non-stop from LAX to Hong Kong, was another matter entirely. On the whole, the experience had been considered well worth it for the four energon cubes they'd won from Skywarp.

At least until the video footage surfaced a week later.


	5. Reading

**Author's Note:** Takes place in the late 1980s/early 1990s. Written for Reading Combaticons. Also note, the Skyhammer mentioned in this fic is no relation to the actual character Skyhammer.

"Oh, grind my gears! No way!" Swindle bounced excitedly in his desk chair, staring at his computer screen. "Oh, this is too good to be true!"

"They're giving out free samples at Fort Knox?" Vortex asked. "Nahh, can't be that, you're still here."

"Shut up, Vortex," Swindle said. "This is serious!"

"What is it, Swindle?" Onslaught asked, looking up from the training manual he was reading.

"Okay, I've been searching through the datafiles that were retrieved from the _Nemesis_ for those history files you wanted, Ons and I found…," Swindle paused for dramatic effect. "The _Skyhammer_ serials!"

There was a crash as Vortex half-fell, half-leaped out of his chair and charged across the room, edging in roughly to better read Swindle's screen. "Augh! He's not! They've got all of them! _Skyhammer and the Autobot Menace! Skyhammer and the Gladiatorial Games!"_

"And, last but not least." Swindle scrolled down. "_Skyhammer and the Dweller in the Depths."_

There was a hush as Vortex stared at the screen, hands shaking. "We never got to read that one," he said. "It was due to come out after we were…y'know, rightfully imprisoned. Read it, Swindle. Read it now!"

Swindle stretched back in his chair, looking doubtful. "Well, I dunno, I _do_ have to find those history files for Onslaught."

"This _is_ history!" Vortex yelled. "Please, Swindle? Please? _Please?!_ Brawl! Thump Swindle until he says yes!"

"Depends," Brawl said. "Does that one have Convoy an' Roadrage in it?"

"Of course it does!" Vortex said. "What would a Skyhammer story be without the vicious Convoy and Roadrage, sneaking and conniving Autobot rebels who treacherously escape the brave, dashing Skyhammer each and every single issue?" Vortex paused, head tilting to one side. "Y'know, it's amazing how Skyhammer never gets punished for allowing such desperate criminals to escape, isn't it?"

"Well," Swindle said, voice oozing sarcasm. "He's always really, really sorry and the Tyrant is always merciful and forgives him because he knows that Skyhammer is his most loyal and trusted soldier."

Blast Off snorted. "Really, I'd think even you three mental midgets would be beyond such puerile entertainments by now," he said. "Those stories are nothing more than the worst kind of propaganda. And I do mean _worst_; rumor had it they were generated by an AI -- not a particularly clever one either."

"They're funny," Brawl grunted. "Read the story, Swindle. I like Convoy. Roadrage too. Best part of the whole series."

"Damn straight," Vortex said. "Better than that null-signal Dirtball, that's for sure." Vortex snorted. "'Faithful ground pounder companion' my rotor assembly. More like 'stupid lump of cannon fodder.'"

"Hey! Dirtball's smarter than you think!" Swindle said. "Couple times, I think he's just stringing ol' Skyhammer along, y'know? Playing dumb so the stupid flyboy would risk his neck instead."

"You know who I like?" Vortex said. "Twilight, that's who. The slinky, sneaky neutral who lives on the edge! She in this one?"

Swindle turned back to the screen, scanning the story. "Yeah, looks like she shows up this time. Skyhammer's got a speech trying to win her over to the Decepticon cause."

"No spoilers!" Vortex yelled, smacking Swindle's shoulder. "Don't tell me what happens!"

"What?!" Swindle yelled back. "That's what happens every issue she's in! Skyhammer tries to win her over to the Decepticon cause and she spends half the book wondering if perhaps the security of the Empire isn't worth shedding the illusory freedom of the Neutral Zones. Then they snog. She's a tool."

"She's better than Nova!" Vortex said. "Little prissy, 'I defected because I love Skyhammer oh-so-much!' -- gahh, I hate him!"

"You hate Nova 'cause he comes between Skyhammer and your precious Twilight," Swindle sneered.

"It's more than that!" Vortex yelped. "He's unrealistic! No Autobot is gonna defect to our side just 'cause some jet wiggles his aft at him! And there's no way he'd ever have survived the war 'cause he's too stupid to live! And -- and, he's a stupid color! He's just some cliché they tossed in to try and capture the cross-faction romance market!"

"Yeah, unlike Twilight," Swindle said. "Who's a perfectly three-dimensional slice of documentary-style realism. Never mind that no neutral, especially a neutral femme, would be stupid enough to come within half a klik of somebody like Skyhammer, unless they wanted to end up spare parts or recruited."

"Oh please!" Blast Off said, setting down the privacy screen he was weaving from colored cable and wire mesh. "The whole series is an unrealistic mish-mash of clichés. Skyhammer comes off the assembly line, goes straight into his first battle and loses both his wingmates in an Autobot sneak attack and then vows to become the finest member of the Decepticon War Fleet in their memory. And he does this while being the most upright, moral SNAD ever seen under Cybertron's twin suns thanks to the most involved combination of coincidences, shoddy plotting, continuity holes and authorial favoritism. And you idiots are arguing over Twilight versus Nova when any idiot should be able to see that the only character with any redeeming features is Velocity!"

Vortex and Swindle stared at Blast Off, Swindle slightly open-mouthed. "The SHUTTLE?" they chorused in disbelief. "You like HIM?"

Brawl pushed forward, trying to jam himself between Swindle and the screen. "See if they got that one where Skyhammer gets captured by Convoy an' Roadrage and they tie him up an' beat the slag outta him until Dirtbag saves him."

"Uh, Brawl? That was never an issue," Swindle said. "Like, ever. Imperial Political Warfare Division would never publish that. Sounds like Autobot black propaganda."

Brawl's fists clenched. "I read it. It was the same type of file as all the other ones were an' it was on th' regular system so it's real! And it was good! Find it!"

"Then get outta my way, wideload!" Swindle pushed forward, fingers tapping his keyboard. "What's the title? Not that I'm gonna find a Perihex Glossy sitting in the Nemesis's files!"

"Just look! It was called _Skyhammer Gets His Due,_" Brawl demanded, putting a heavy hand on the back of Swindle's neck.

"See! That's not even the right kinda title! I'm telling you, Brawl, it's a forgery! The Autobots did it all the time. They were trying to undermine our propaganda by publishing demoralizing versions of our own stuff. I had a copy of their _Selective Effectiveness Guide: Creative Malingering for Clever 'Cons_ for vorn. Got me outta so much scutwork." Swindle sighed, longingly. "Wonderful stuff."

Brawl's only answer was a slight tightening of his hand that made Swindle squirm and lean quickly forward.

"I'm looking! But it's not gonna…" Swindle's voice trailed off for a moment as a list of files filled the screen. "Oh, no way…no way!"

"You found it, didn't you? Told you it was real!"

"No," Swindle said, peevishly. "I didn't find _it._ I didn't find it at all."

Brawl's optics dimmed. "Oh."

"I found about fifty of 'em," Swindle said, in almost reverential tones. "Couple of 'em are pretty raunchy-sounding, if these summaries are anything to go by. Somebody musta not realized what they were uploading back in the day or they just really liked seeing Skyhammer get slagged by Autobots."

Vortex shoved past Brawl, staring at Swindle's screen. "I changed my mind, read "_Skyhammer and the Third Shift Surprise_! And do all the voices!"


	6. Silly

**Author's Note: **Written for Silly Combaticons.

The music would have been ear-splittingly loud to a human being -- and as it was, it was verging on uncomfortable for nearby Cybertronians, particularly with the sound of four sets of stomping feet keeping time with the music.

Inside, the battle was joined. Swindle and Vortex versus Skywarp and Starscream. A viewscreen at the front of the lounge displayed a pair of digital human images, with arrows scrolling quickly up the screen indicating which directions the dancers' feet were to move: left, right, front, back, and combinations of all of the above.

The players' moves were recorded by sensors in a pair of dance pads and then translated into scores displayed in the upper corners of the screen. A quick glance showed that the two Combaticons were well ahead of the Seekers.

"Place your bets now, you may, you may, hey," sang Vortex as he rocked back and forth, stomping the left and right sensors on his dance pad.

"Wrong lyrics." Swindle sounded chipper, almost conversational as he mimicked Vortex's movements.. "It's _'Vrei sa pleci dar nu ma, nu ma iei.'_"

"Wrong song!" Starscream snarled. "How can you sing a song entirely different from the one you're dancing to!"

"We're just that good," Swindle said as he and Vortex spun, tapping their left-hand arrows twice in quick succession as the song ended and the game tallied their scores.

"A new record!" yelled the game, as the side of the screen displaying Swindle and Vortex's score burst into electronic fireworks.

"We won!" Vortex hopped up and down in a small circle. "We won! We won! YES!"

Swindle grinned, showing all of his dentals as Starscream stomped over to scowl down at him.

"You cheated! I don't know how you did, but you did!" Starscream said.

"Yeah, good luck finding anybody to sympathize that you got taken," Swindle said. "I mean, if anybody should know what I'm like, it should be you, Screamer. Besides, it's not like I'm asking for anything much. You and Warpo just have to dress up like a couple Skyhammer characters for a couple shifts."

"I am NOT dressing up like Skyhammer!" Starscream's face was a mask of fury. "I've had to live with that -- that mockery for too long!"

"Who said anything about you dressing up like Skyhammer?" Swindle made a face. "'Tex? Did you tell Screamer he had to dress up like Skyhammer?"

"Ew, no!" Vortex was still in mid-victory dance. "Who likes Skyhammer?"

"Okay, good, just wanted to make sure," Swindle said. "See, no, Screamer, you guys are gonna be Convoy and Road Rage."

"We will not!"

"Okay, fine...Velocity and Mudball. Unless you want the whole base to know you got your afts handed to you in a dexterity contest by a couple ground-pounders?"

Skywarp looked from Starscream to Swindle. "Dibs on Velocity," he said.


	7. Transforming

**Transforming Combaticons**

"Combaticons! Merge into Bruticus!" Megatron's voice carried over the battlefield. Almost before it finished echoing, the Combaticons sprang into action, their bodies twisting and bending as they changed from their robot modes into Bruticus's component pieces.

As always there was an all-too-brief moment before the individual Combaticons' personalities fully coalesced into Bruticus's larger, slower over-mind. For that brief moment, they were six together instead of five and one separately.

Bruticus liked these moments best. For this brief time, he was awake, aware and not alone. He'd learned from the others just how horrible it was to be alone, learned the lesson well enough that he clung to these moments for when he was stuck back into five-space. These moments were his only real chances to get to know his brothers as their real selves rather than just as parts of his body.

How much they were really aware of him, he wasn't sure but sometimes he could sense them reaching back to him, reassuring him with fragments of themselves, their memories, their histories before the reawakening, drawing him into their team, making him one of the family just as he was drawing them in and making them into himself.

And then, the moment passed and, alone again, Bruticus rose over the battlefield.


	8. Angsty Combaticons

**Author's notes:** "Angst" in this story is being used in the sense of whingy, teen angst.

**Angsty Combaticons:**

"I jus' thought of another reason why I hate Starscream!" Swindle listed to one side, overbalanced as he shook a finger as if to emphasize his point.

"And that makes for what? Reason number five thousand, three hundred and seventy?" Blast Off asked as Brawl grabbed Swindle by the shoulder and dragged him upright again.

Swindle's optics fuzzed and his lips moved in thought. "No!" he said. "S'only...couple dozen. Shut up! You're gonna make me lose my reason!"

"Too late," Blast Off muttered. He sighed. "I suppose it's too much to ask to have one night of drinking that didn't result in yet another round of Starscream bashing?"

"You don't like him either, Blast Off. Hey! Where's my cube?" Swindle struggled to rebalance himself on his stool. "C'mon, where's my cube?"

"You finished it," Brawl said, pouring the remnants of Swindle's cube into his fuel tank and setting the empty cube in front of Swindle. "See? Empty."

"Damn!" Swindle looked around, searching wildly for a replacement cube. Chuckling, Onslaught slid a fresh one in front of Swindle. "Whoa, cool...okay, where was I?"

"You were about to add to the long list of reasons why you hate Starscream," Onslaught said.

"Why _we_ hate Starscream." Swindle waggled a finger in front of Onslaught. "Don' be a-a whatchacallit? A apologizer like Blast Off is. This is th' guy who used us an' tossed us away when we weren't convenient for him anymore, remember? That's low. That's dirty. That's--"

"Exactly what we would have done had the situations been reversed," Blast Off said. "It was exactly what we planned to do, once we'd disposed of Megatron, remember?"

"That's beside the point!" Swindle said. "Look, look, just listen already, okay? Starscream dragged us outta Room 217 'cause he wanted us to do his dirty work, right? An' then when we weren't able to beat the entire Decepticon Empire by ourselves, he threw his hissy fit an' left, right? An' then when we were gonna actually succeed in takin' over Cybertron, he shows up an' tries to steal our credit an' then -- then! -- he sells us out to Megatron just 'cause we slapped him in a cell! I mean, we didn't even rip out his personality component! We were nice to him!"

"Well, I don't know about 'nice,'" Vortex said with a sadistic giggle. "We were gonna whale on him once we incinerated the Earth."

"Yeah, but we _didn't_." Swindle picked up his cube and took a triumphant guzzle. "We coulda just shot him down then, but we didn't!. So, instead, once Megatron an' Prime show up, Starscream sells us out faster than iI/i would have!"

"Again, something we'd have done happily," Blast Off said.

"Knock it off!" Swindle looked angrily at Onslaught. 'Make him quit doin' that thing he's doing!"

"Bringing logic to the argument?" Blast Off asked.

"Yeah!" Swindle nodded his head for a moment until Blast Off's words were fully processed. 'No!" he yelled, shaking his head even more emphatically. "You're cloudin' the issue! Quit cloudin' things!"

"Indeed," Onslaught said to Blast Off. "He'll stop talking about this if you simply let him finish."

Swindle smirked drunkenly at Blast Off. "Yeah!" he said. "So, he sells us out to Megatron an' Prime an' the next thing we know we're stuck back in the Empire an' everybody's treatin' us like we got scraplets an' what happens to Starscream, huh? What happens to Starscream?"

The others sat watching Swindle, expectantly waiting for the answer to the question.

"_NOTHING_!" Swindle roared, slamming both hands down on the tabletop and managing to topple himself from his chair again. "Ow! Damnit! Quit moving my chair!"

"You're saying that you're angry with Starscream because he can get away with being a slimy, self-serving, backstabbing...," Blast Off cut himself off. "I'm sorry; I must have drunk more than I thought. Of icourse/i you're angry because he can get away with being a slimy, self-serving backstabber. I'm surprised you don't spend your days studying his technique."

"Shut up!" Swindle whimpered from where he lay on the floor. "Ons! Make the ground stop moving so much!"


	9. Excited Combaticons

**Author's Note:** The "exhaust-choke" is based on a real device called a "Pear of Agony" which may or may not have been used by the Spanish Inquisition.

**Excited Combaticons:**

When it came to dealing with his brothers, there were three things Blast Off never did: he never turned off his audials completely during one of Onslaught's lectures; he never got between Swindle and food, and he never, ever stayed in the same room with a happy Vortex. At least not when his optics were shining like _that_..

Unfortunately for Blast Off, the heliformer was between him and the doorway.

"It came!" Vortex yelled, hugging a crate to his chest. "It came! It came! It finally came!"

"This is where I'm supposed to pretend to care and ask you what it is," Blast Off said. "I'm not going to do that. Get out of my way so I can go be anywhere but here."

"It's a present!" Vortex said, moving closer with the crate and more or less forcing Blast Off to retreat. "From Rack!"

Blast Off vented exhaust in a sigh. "You're not listening to me, are you?" he said. "I don't _care_, Vortex."

"I was talking to him the last time I was on Cybertron about how I don't have any decent tools here on Earth because Primus knows where all our stuff ended up after we were imprisoned and he said he was sorry to hear that and then I had to come back to Earth and I didn't think anything of it because, hey, why should I? But look! This just came in off the space bridge with the rest of the latest supply shipment! We had to fight the Autobots to get them away from it but we did and now it's here!"

"You have the processor speed of an overheating Empty, you know that?" Blast Off said.

Vortex set the box down on the nearest bunk -- Brawl's -- a move guaranteed to annoy the big tanker should he happen into the room. For a moment, Blast Off considered radioing for Brawl, but that would leave him stuck in a room with an angry Brawl and a happy Vortex and that was just too much to deal with all at once. He shifted closer to the door, in hopes of being able to creep past as Vortex cracked open the case and looked inside.

No such luck. "Oh my rotors!" Vortex cried, lifting something out of the box. It was a small device, rounded at the bottom but tapering near the top. Blast Off studied it, unsure if the several bumps on its surface distorted the smooth shape, or simply accentuated it.

Vortex looked at the object with something akin to the sort of reverence Onslaught reserved for a well-drawn battle map or that Swindle had for a particularly shiny piece of currency. Blast Off resisted the urge to ask what it was with a real effort.

"An exhaust-choke! Oh Rack, I'm going to have to do something iterrible/i to you for this!" Vortex's tone suggested that both he and Rack would both enjoy this 'terrible' thing.

"A what?" Blast Off could have slapped himself for asking.

"An exhaust-choke," Vortex said, placing a small key in the top of the device and turning it. Suddenly, sharpened rods sprang from the bumps on the device's surface. "You lock some poor dope in vehicle mode, ram this into his exhaust pipe and turn the key. Then, you put him on a treadmill and start him running. Eventually, the exhaust gases build up and his engine'll die. Doesn't kill 'em, but it hurts like smelting while it happens. The studs make it adjustable, and impossible to move until the key's put back in place."

"Lovely," Blast Off said. "Truly fascinating."

"Yeah," Vortex said, setting the exhaust-choke back into the protective cradle of the box and picking up a small vice-like object. "Now this, this is an old school basic, run of the mill thumbscrew. This'll crush fingers like crazy all day long. An' he included some big ones in here that'll handle arms and legs on anything this side of a Guardian."

"And I'm supposed to care, because why?" Blast Off asked.

"Because I heard that crack about my processor an' I need _somebody_ to test these out on," Vortex said, turning toward Blast Off with a grin.


	10. Obnoxious Combaticons

**Author's Notes:** Takes place sometime during or slightly after G1 Season Three.

**Vocalizer On, Should Be Off:**

"Hey, Octane!" Vortex sounded chipper and happy, a sure sign he'd selected his latest victim – and since Octane was alone, it wasn't hard to guess who the lucky one was.

Octane sighed inwardly. Outwardly, he flashed a friendly smile at the Combaticon interrogator. Only an idiot showed weakness around someone whose specialty was digging out secrets.

"Hey, Vortex! Long time no see! How's it going, buddy?"

"Pretty good!" Vortex came closer, red optics shining as he zeroed in on his target. "Welcome back. Man, you are the lucky one, huh?"

Octane chuckled. "Yeah, if you can call half an orn in med bay watching the Constructicons straighten the kinks outta my frame "lucky," I guess I was."

"Not everybody survives betraying the Empire." Vortex's chipper facade slipped a bit. "I mean, first you steal Trypticon, then you join the Autobots _and_ plot with Starscream's ghost to take over – whatever lucky charm you got, gimme double!"

Octane shrugged, doing his best 'what can I say?' face with a dash of humility. "Galvatron decided to be merciful, I'm just thankful of that." He turned back to the monitor he was studying, hoping Vortex would take the hint and leave.

No such luck. Octane could see the reflection of Vortex standing with his head cocked to one side, studying him. "Still , it's gotta be tough," Vortex said, spinning his rotors. "I mean, I know how it is; the Empire hates failure. If you'd succeeded, you'd be second in command by now an' your paramour would be at your side."

Octane turned back around. "My what?" he asked, chuckling lightly, the gentle sound in inverse proportion to the anger he could feel rising.

"Your paramour." Vortex leaned in, seemingly studying Octane for a sign that his taunting was affecting him. "You _know!_ The Autobot triple-changer! _Sandstorm!_ Brawl told me all about how _close_ you two were. It must be rough here without him."

"Oh, that's a good one!" Octane's laugh rang around the room. "Vortex, buddy, you've worked in intelligence! Slag, you're teammates with _Swindle_, for Primus's sake. You should recognize when someone's lying to build false confidence in a sucker! That stupid Autobot gave me more ground truth intell than Soundwave and company could have gathered in half a solar cycle! Paramour? He wasn't my paramour, he was some sucker I was stringing along until I could figure out how to come home!"

Vortex shifted, his optics flickering indecisively. Clearly he'd been expecting a different reaction.

"What?" Octane sounded hurt. "You don't believe me? C'mon, I can prove it. C'mere." He gestured toward the monitor with one hand, the other tapping in an access code. "My full report to Galvatron and Cyclonus. Don't tell anybody I let you read it, okay?"

Vortex stepped in, leaning over to scan the data scrolling up the screen. "It's gibberish!"

"It's encrypted. Give the key a chance to work – what? You think Galvatron lets Ultra-class secrets just lie around where any two-bit hacker can access them?"

The words "Ultra-class" were all it took, as Octane had known it would. Swindle was greedy for things; Vortex for information.

As Vortex turned back to the screen, Octane opened a hatch and pulled out one of his siphoning hoses. His fingers brushed gently over the recessed button, activating the drill unit. Stabbing into Vortex's fuel tank was accomplished in one swift, fluid motion; one arm snaked around Vortex's throat, using it as a handle to hold the smaller mech in place.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," Octane said, his tone just as light and friendly as it always was. "I don't need the rest of your teammates coming downon me for that – as it is, it'll be tough enough to keep them off my case for this."

Vortex's answer was an anguished mewling noise. Octane slowed the fuel draw; no reason not to prolong the agony.

"See, it's not so much you as it is me." Octane continued. "I'm getting really tired of the Sandstorm cracks. Astrotrain and Blitzwing feel the need to mention it every single day. I mean, it stopped being funny after the third time, but try telling those guys that. D'you know how annoying that is?" Octane paused expectantly, then twisted the hose in deeper. "I asked you a question, buddy. Don't be rude and leave me hanging."

"Yeah." Vortex's vocalizer crackled and fuzzed with the effort to speak. "Yeah, I d-do."

"Right, so, I guess when you showed up. I just snapped – but hey, good news is this is probably going to finally convince those gearheads to back off, so I suppose I should thank you. You did do me a solid."

A click told Octane he'd taken just enough of Vortex's fuel reserves to leave the Combaticon on the painful borderline between consciousness and inoperative status. With a happy sigh, Octane withdrew the siphon and released Vortex, letting him drop to the floor. "Thanks buddy. And oh, one more thing – next time, fuel up with something decent. How you can even walk with that sludge in your system is beyond me."


	11. Naive Combaticons

**Note:** Takes place during "Revenge of Bruticus." Nearly all dialogue is taken from the original shooting script for the episode (see my profile for a link) . Scene settings may be somewhat off since I wrote this at work and wasn't able to double check.

**Naive Combaticons: **

"I am pleased to report that our mission of revenge is proceeding splendidly," Onslaught said as he paced back and forth in front of his Combaticons. For once, they were standing to attention before him rather than slouching like a bunch of half-fueled Empties. Optics glowing with pride in his troops and himself, he continued.

"Using existing space bridge technology, we shall drive the Earth -- with Megatron on it -- into the sun where he will…."

The sound of an explosion in the distance cut off Onslaught's explanation. "Brawl!" he shouted. "What is it?"

"We're under attack!" Brawl yelled, somehow managing to mix sarcasm with anger and surprise.

Onslaught turned to face their attackers: strange alien craft like something out of a holoserial, all tentacles, cubic wings and lashing scythes.

"It's a sneak attack!" Vortex yelled, leaping into the air as he transformed. "I love sneak attacks!"

"Get 'em Vortex!" Swindle transformed as well, driving in circles to avoid being shot by their attackers. "Blast 'em to shreds and I'll pick up the pieces!"

Onslaught didn't bother to transform. Instead, he turned and simply fired upon the enemy. "Wish I had my photon missiles," he said to Blast Off who stood beside him. "But, I needed them for Megatron! This stun gun doesn't even seem to slow them up!"

Blast Off grunted. "I heartily concur," he said, sounding more offended than angry as he prepared to transform. "My ionic blaster should be disrupting their electrical flow but, nothing!"

"Where'd you go?" Brawl roared at one of the ships. "Come back here! Hey! I blasted you! Fall down!" Brawl paused, engines snarling. "Keep firing!"

So they did. Because when it came right down to it, it felt good to be shooting at someone. Even though their opponents weren't Megatron. Even though they seemed to shrug off anything thrown at them. Even though they inexplicably changed from ships to gargoyles, it simply felt good to have a target for their anger in their collective sights.

At least, it did until their ammo started running low.

"We can't stop them!" Onslaught yelled. "Our weapons have run out of power!" He was about to give the order to fall back to the Space Bridge tower when the gargoyles simply vanished like an Empty's hopes.

Brawl and Vortex transformed back to robot mode, lashing out at the air as if expecting an attack from an invisible opponent.

"I don't understand." Blast Off's voice was a near whisper.

"Maybe this'll clear things up." Onslaught turned to see Swindle standing near a holographic projector. The smaller mech's optics were gleaming angrily.

"Gentlemen," Swindle said in a low, too-friendly tone. "We've been had."


End file.
